Velvet Smoking Jacket, Kimono Robes, Sexy Mens Robes
Boys, if you haven’t already got a smooth, sexy velvet smoking jacket in your wardrobe then GET ONE. What the hell do I want a smoking jacket for Johnnie? Mate, when I tell you what happened to me last weekend, I can guarantee - you will want one!
It had rained all week and Friday night rolled round and me and the boys were all set to hit the town, go clubbing…you know, the usual. But man, I was over it. And besides, rain made my hair go pooffy (hate it when that happens). So I cancelled the boys (not impressed), waited for a break in the storm, and then sprinted down to my local Blockbuster to stock up on Rambo DVDs instead. By the time I stuffed round (compulsory stop at the bottle shop), it was pissing down again. While trying to find the key for my apartment block, I met up with my new EXTREMELY HOT neighbour who turns out, was in the exact same predicament as me. Soaking wet...and not in a good way! As we laughed and slopped our sodden selves into the lift, I offered her a towel at my place – and would she like a wine?
I stripped off and threw my velvet smoking jacket on without thinking. I wasn’t (at that stage) trying to get sexy or hit on her - it was what I usually put on after a shower when I intended to sit round doing nothing. She came out of the bathroom after drying off (looking gorgeous)… and her eyes nearly popped! She told me later (much later…), that I’d looked so manly and suave sitting on the sofa with my glass of red in my smokin’ hot smoking jacket, that she was immediately turned on.
Apparently, in all my velvet smoking jacket glory, I’d looked as smug and sophisticated as Hugh Hefner in his Playboy mansion, right before being ravaged by a bevy of big-breasted bunnies! (her words not mine). And it just so happened, boys, she had beautiful rack of her own - by now I had definitely noticed her stunning figure. We chatted for a while, drank more wine. Her name was Fifi (of course it was) and she had just started a new job at one of the posh hairdressing salons in the city.
As she ran her fingers over (and under....*sigh*) my smoking jacket, things were definitely starting to hot up. Man, she was a doll. Then, just as we started kissing she pulled away, and looked up at me. What’s going on there? She nodded at my head. I knew exactly what she was referring to. When it dries by itself, my hair goes into a huge, almost afro-type fluff ball. Like I said… pooffy. I can fix that she said. She grabbed me by my hand and before I knew it she had the hair-dryer roaring - I was getting my hair done!
So what happened to the smoking jacket Johnnie? Ha ha, well boys…lets just say I had to leave that on. ALL NIGHT LONG!!!